And it All Went Downhill from There
by TantalumCobolt
Summary: Clint is mistaken for his twin brother while on a mission in Cairo, which maybe wouldn't be so bad if Tony Stark hadn't shown up when he did. And, as they say, it all went downhill form there... [Not part of my 'It's a Twin Thing' series!]
1. Chapter 1

**[EDIT] AN: Thank you so much to the Guest who left the review letting me know the story was unreadable :) I'm not sure who you are, but I'm dedicating this chapter to you :)**

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Let it go on record that Clint Barton hates Cairo. He's been here for two weeks already and he's _so freakin' over it_. Don't get him wrong, it's not that he hates Egyptans. If anything, the people of Cairo are the only thing decent about this mission. And, yeah, okay, he'll admit that even the architecture is pretty amazing. Clint's not what you'd call an overly appreciative guy when it comes to building aesthetics; he just climbs them (and jumps/falls off them when the need arises). But he's been running across Cairo's rooftops for ten days now so he's developed a bit of an appreciation for them.

So it's not so much _Cairo_ that Clint hates. It more the corner of the world that Cairo is located in. Specifically, the _really really hot_ corner of the world.

"Forty minutes to evac. Turning comms. off now." His handler's voice is quiet in his ear. Coulson's off pretending to be dead while overseeing some top secret op in Morocco (or Monaco or something like that) so Clint's stuck with another senior agent. Agent Carnaghan isn't such a bad guy but Clint doesn't really know him.

And thats's another thing that he hates about this whole situation. The fact that he's stuck in this ridiculously hot city without a single person he actually knows and-

"Brandt!"

It is only years of impersonating his twin that causes Clint to stop in the middle of the semi-crowded street and turn around. There is no way that name and him being here are a coincidence. He can see two people running, weaving through the crowd of people, and he knows without a doubt that he's their target.

He takes about two seconds to assess the threat before deciding that he is so not in the mood to deal with anyone who might be out to kill his brother. He jogs down the street then turns and ducks into an alley about fifty metres ahead. There's a door about halfway down the litter strewn alley, partially hidden by a bin, that he knows is a back entrance to the pub on the corner. It only takes one try for Clint to pick the lock and slip inside. He's sure he must stand out among the staff scurrying about in the back, but over the years he's learnt that as long as you look like you're meant to be somewhere people tend not to question your presence.

It's a quick path through the kitchen to the pub area and Clint pauses at the swinging door to look through the glass panel and make sure nobody is watching before he makes his exit. It only takes a few seconds to scan the pub for possible threats and then he's out the door and striding across the main floor. By now his two tails (well, Will's two tails) should have passed by and, with any luck, they won't double back looking for him.

"Clint!"

Clint freezes. He'd recognise that voice anywhere.

Tony appears in front of him and for a moment all Clint can see is his blinding grin before he's pulled into a quick hug. "Thank god you're here," the billionaire mutters in Clint's ear before he pulls back, grin still in place.

The appearance of the two strangers in the street had momentarily driven away Clint's irritation but now it comes back full force. He has about two million questions that he wants answers to (the main one being "what the fuck are you doing here?") and he's sorely tempted to just drag them out of Tony in the middle of the pub, positive public relations be damned, but then a young woman appears beside Tony and Clint forces his need to know _what the fuck is going on_ to the back of his mind.

"Is this the man you were telling me about?" The woman sounds oddly disappointed. She's a little on the short side, with curly brown hair and wide blue eyes shadowed by too much makeup.

Tony's grin looks less relieved and more forced. "Yep, this is Clint." He's staring at Clint in an imploring way and Clint vaguely wonders what it is that Tony wants him to do. He makes a mental note to talk with the billionaire about not giving out his name to random strangers when he's on a mission. Right now, though, he has more pressing issues. Like the fact that _Tony just grabbed his hand in a completely non-platonic way._

What. the. actual. fuck?

"Now, if you'll excuse us Miss Dale, our table is right over here," Tony is saying. And oh. _Oh_. Suddenly Clint gets exactly what role he's supposed to be playing here.

"Sorry I'm so late, honey," Clint says a little too sweetly as Tony tries to pull him away from the pouting woman. "I got a little lost." And then, just because he knows it will piss Tony off, he glances over at the woman to join her into the conversation. "I'm sure you know how confusing the streets of Cairo can be Miss Dale."

Miss Dale perks up a little at being addressed but Tony tugs more insistently on Clint's arm and hurries to speak before she can reply. "Yes, well, I'm really sorry to rush off but we have a date and we really must eat before the function…"

Clint lets himself be guided through the tables to one in the back corner with little resistance. Once they're both sitting and Clint is sure the Dale woman has turned away he turns to Tony with a carefully blank expression. "Is there a reason you just hijacked my mission and forced me to be your fake boyfriend?"

"You know you enjoyed it."

 _"Tony."_ Clint is so done with everything right now.

Tony runs a hand through is hair. "She's been pestering me for the last hour, okay? I tried to lose her by ducking in here but she's _insistent_ , man. I needed to do something to get her away."

Clint raises an eyebrow. "So you told her you were waiting for your boyfriend?"

"It's not the worst thing I've ever done, or will do for that matter." Tony shrugs. "I'm just glad you showed up when you did. Must be fate."

Clint really wants to punch something right now. "I'm working, Tony."

"Top secret kind of working or saving the world kind of working?"

The something Clint wants to punch right now is looking more and more like Tony. "The kind where nobody here is supposed to know that I'm here." It's Clint's turn to run a hand through his short hair. "And between you and the two on the street that's pretty much shot to hell."

Clint glances at his watch. Great. Only twenty minutes until Carnaghan is expecting him to be on the plane and there is no way Clint will be able to get across the city to their evac. point in that time. Really, nothing could possibly make this situation any worse.

Except that fate's a bitch who seems to have picked today to put Clint Barton in her crosshairs because it suddenly does.

"Hey, Brandt!"

The duo from outside are back.

Clint scrubs a hand down his face. "Don't say anything," he hisses to Stark. Then he turns in his seat to face the man and woman who appear at his shoulder. He's loud and blond and wearing a garish tourist shirt, while she's beautiful and brunette and stands like she's ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat. Clint is immediately on guard, even if they're both wearing identical bright, entirely non-threatening smiles.

"Hi," Clint says cautiously. He's impersonated Will enough times to know how to act but until he knows who these people are and how they know his brother he's going to play it safe.

"I thought you were in Beijing this week," the blond says and Clint inwardly does a double take because, woah, he's British and he really hadn't expected that.

Clint shrugs. "I was, but I was able to finish taking care of things early."

The brunette smiles. "Does that mean you're rejoining the team? Does Ethan know?"

Ah.

Everything clicks in Clint's mind at the name. Ethan can only be Ethan Hunt (IMF golden boy and the guy who Clint's been wanting to punch in the face for screwing up his baby bro's already fragile emotional issues) and if these two are on his team they must be the other two IMF agents his brother mentioned working with… what did Will say their names were? Jane and Benji? Yeah, that sounded about right.

"Maybe," Clint says. "I've got a few things-" Cue glance at Tony. "-to take of first."

"Anything we can help with?" Jane asks, an easy smile on her face. It doesn't fool Clint for a second.

(Even if there's a voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe she's not trying to fool him.)

"Uh… Brandt. I hate to interrupt this little pow wow but I don't believe I've met your friends yet," Tony interrupts from across the table and Clint's sure the two IMF agents had seen Tony there but it's only now that's he's made himself part of the conversation that they actually pay attention to him.

"Holy shit," the Brit - _Benji,_ Clint reminds himself - breathes out. "You're Tony Stark."

Clint looks at Tony long enough to see the self-satisfied smirk spreading across the billionaire's face before rolling his eyes and pulling his phone out under the table. He sends a quick text to Will.

 **How's Beijing?**

And sits back to watch the show while he waits for his brother's reply.

"It's more of a hobby," Tony is telling Jane and Benji, who have taken the two remaining seats at the table. "Saving the world doesn't exactly pay well, y'know?"

Benji is nodding enthusiastically but Clint notes with no small amount of amusement that Jane seems completely unimpressed. It'a about time Tony Stark met a woman who didn't immediately fall at his feet.

"It shouldn't be about the money," Jane retorts and Clint can see from the set of her shoulders that she's ready to go to battle. "Isn't it enough to know that you've saved lives?"

Tony slowly takes off his sunglasses (and Clint only really registers then that he'd been wearing them indoors) which is his tell that shit is about to get serious. "Jane, isn't it?"

Jane nods.

"Well, Jane, the warm fuzzy feeling you get from saving the world on a daily basis doesn't pay the rent now does it?"

As entertaining as it is to watch Tomy verbally tear Will's teammate apart (and Clint's beginning to wish he'd brought popcorn for the show), he tunes Tony out when his phone buzzes in his hand.

 _ **How do you know about Beijing? If you put a tracker on me I'll kill you.**_

Even over text message Will is able to make Clint smile.

 **Your buddy Benji let it slip.**

Clint lets himself imagine the panic that undoubtedly crosses Will's face as he reads that. Will's always been the caring brother, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't also the brother who overthinks everything. Clint doesn't need to imagine the increasingly over dramatic scenarios running through his brother's head.

 _ **You're with Benji?**_

 _ **Oh god, please tell me you're not torturing him.**_

 _No, that's all Tony,_ Clint thinks.

"Anyone important?" Jane's voice is suddenly way too close for comfort.

Clint just blinks at her. He's made it his personal mission not to react when people startle him. He's learnt from experience that it makes the bad guys way too smug.

"The messages." Jane nods towards Clint's phone. "Is it anyone important?"

"Uh…" Clint hesitates. He doesn't even know if Will's mentioned that he has a brother. _Oh, what the hell_ , he thinks, _they'll probably find out eventually anyway…_ "My brother."

Jane arches an eyebrow in a way that is eerily reminiscent of Natasha. Do women learn that at spy school? "You have a brother?"

 _ **This isn't funny Clint. Answer me!**_

"Yeah," Clint nods. He choses to ignore Will's increasingly frantic texts and prolong his brother's anxiety. That's what brothers are for right?

 ** _I'm not joking Clint. I will kill you._**

"Younger?" Jane asks.

"Older." Clint spares a moment to make sure Tony is behaving himself. The billionaire is debating something tech-y with Benji, holding a Starkpad in one hand and gesturing avidly with the other. Out of the corner of his eye Clint can see Jane watching him watch Tony.

"And you know Tony Stark..?" she prompts, spinning a spoon on the tabletop.

 _ **I'm calling Nat.**_

That message pulls Clint's attention back to his phone and he types back a quick response before turning to face Jane.

 **Met him and Jane in a pub. Don't worry, we're playing nice.**

"We met a month or two back," Clint says. "He helped stop me from doing something stupid and then I helped get him out of trouble. After that we kinda became friends."

Jane giggles. Clint stares. She actually just _giggled_. Was what he said even _funny_?

 _ **We?**_

 _ **What do you mean 'we'?**_

"So you're good looking and you've rescued Iron Man. That must make for an impressive resume." Jane immediately looks mortified at her comment. "I mean- I didn't- that's not what I-"

As Jane stutters out excuses and tries (fails) not to turn red, Clint suppresses a purely evil grin.

 **Tony and I. Well, Tony and you.**

The response is immediate.

 ** _Tony and I? Wtf Clint?_**

 **This twin thing has perks.** **You just agreed to a date with Jane.** Clint sends back. **She's cute btw. I totally approve.**

Jane has stopped spluttering in favour of hiding her flaming face in her hands. Clint tries to squash down his ever growing amusement at her predicament and remind himself to act how Will would act.

"It's okay," Clint reassures Jane even as his phone buzzes with Will's increasingly irritated text messages.

 ** _Please tell me you're joking._**

 ** _I can't go out with her, Clint._**

 ** _Are you forgetting who I'm in a relationship with?_**

 ** _Do you know what she would do to me?_**

Jane stands abruptly, causing Tony and Benji to stop mid debate and look up. "I think I need a drink. Or drinks," Jane declares. "Anyone else?"

"I'll take a single malt whiskey on the rocks," Tony says, lounging back in his chair.

Jane nods distractedly. "Benjj? How about you?"

Clint cuts in before Benji can respond. "Why don't you help her Benji? I'll just have what Tony's having."

Benji hesitates, eyes flickering between the bar and the Starkpad still open on the table, then he nods and stands. He and Jane disappear into the crowd of people surrounding the bar.

"Okay, Legolas, what the hell is going on?" Clint is just thankful Tony had waited until the IMF agents were out of earshot. "And did you really just scare off a woman without even trying?"

"They work with Will."

Tony stares for a total of about three seconds before bursting into laughter. "They think you're your brother?" The billionaire manages to get out between laughter.

"Shut up, Tony." Clint runs a hand through his hair Yeah, he's so done with this mission and this country and pesky billionaires and IMF agents who show up when they're not wanted. "I'm supposed to be on a plane out of here right now, so unless you're going to help me ditch those two and get the hell out of this country we're not friends anymore."

A little on the dramatic side, perhaps, but like he said, Clint's so fucking done with this chapter so if Tony's not going to help him turn the page then he may as well not be in the story.

Tony's laughter stops but he still looks more than a little mirthful as he holds his hands up in surrender. "No need to get your feathers in a bunch," he says. "I've got a plan. We just have to wait a few minutes and then we'll be on our way out of here..."

Let it also go on record that Tony's plans (when he bothers to have them) kinda suck. The last time Clint had been forced to trust one of Tony's plans he'd had to call Director Fury to bail them out of an Icelandic prison. However, Clint's a little short on options right now so, against his better judgement, he agrees to Tony's (stupid and reckless and did he mention stupid?) plan. Then they sit in silence until Jane and Benjj come back to the table and set everyone's drinks down.

"So, Brandt-"

Benji gets no further before the pub's front doors burst open and masked gunmen file in among a shower of bullets and breaking glass. Around them citizens and tourists alike scream and scramble for cover under tables and chairs and behind the bar.

"Everyone calm the fuck down!" The lead gunman yells. "Don't move and nobody gets hurt!"

"Oh god," Benjj mutters and Clint notes that he's several shades paler. "We're all going to die. Ethan will never forgive us."

Jane has her gun out and trained on the lead gunman. Clint leans over and snatches it out of her hand. "Are you crazy?" He hisses. It may not be Clint's move of choice, but he's mostly sure it would be Will's so he adds; "They have automatic rifles. Do what he says."

"We're here for Tony Stark." The leader declares to the room. "Let us have him and we won't shoot anyone."

Clint turns incredulous eyes on the billionaire who's crouching behind him. "Your plan is to get us _kidnapped?_ " he whispers.

Tony grins. It's probably meant to be reassuring but it really _really_ isn't. "Watch and learn, birdbrain," he mutters. "When I give you the signal, stand up and throw yourself at the last guy. Don't hurt him, though. Got it?"

Clint has no chance to protest (because that sounds like a stupid idea even to him and he's really not sure he trusts Tony that much) before the billionaire is standing slowly, palms raised in front of him in universal sign for surrender, and stepping past overturned tables and chairs. Belatedly, Clint realises he probably should have asked Tony what exactly the signal he's supposed to be waiting for is. No doubt it'll be something big and obvious, though, because that's just Tony's style.

Jane shifts closer to him and Clint automatically moves her gun to his other hand. "What do we do?" She asks quietly.

"We wait."

"For what?"

Clint watches the lead guy grab Tony by the back of the neck and push him towards the back of the pub. Two of his minions grab the billionaire's arms and haul him past the broken furniture and frightened customers to the back door Clint had snuck in through almost half an hour ago. The leader makes his way after them, gun still trained on the huddled groups of people as a warning not to try anything, and the final minion follows behind.

Clint's eyes roam the room faster than most normal people can take in detail, but his gaze always comes back to Tony, looking for the signal that he's beginning to think will never come. Then it does. Just before Tony is pushed through the doorway into the back he twists in his captors' grasp and manages to lift on hand to flip off the leader behind him. No doubt there's some witty line to accompany Tony's gesture, but Clint's too busy moving to listen. Not before rolling his eyes, though, because only Tony would think to use the bird as a signal for a Hawk.

"Stay here," he tells Jane as he crawls forward.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Something like that," Clint agrees. He forgoes all pretences of sneaking and pushes himself up into a run. The fourth minion bring's his gun up but Clint's already launching himself off an overturned table and flying through the air to land in a crouch in front of him.

 _'Don't hurt him.'_

Tony's voice echoes in his head and Clint hesitates when he stands up. It's that split second of hesitation that allows the lead kidnapper to spin around and knock him over the back of the head. Pain blossoms in the back of his skull and Clint falls forward into the fourth minion's arms, black spots dancing in front of his vision.

"We take this one too." Clint hears the leader order, then the black spots grow larger and larger until they're sucking him into the black nothing of unconsciousness.

Clint is going to fucking kill Tony.

(If Nat doesn't get to him first.)


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Super short chapter this time, but the next one will be up later today to make up for it :)**

 **Quick warning: Will and Nat have rather potty mouthes when they're angry/worried/frustrated so there's a bit of language. Nothing worse than the first chapter, but I forgot to put a warning there so I'm putting it here.**

* * *

Will gets the phone call as he boards the flight back to D.C.

"Clint's been kidnapped," Natsha tells him in the same tone she'd use to comment on the weather or order takeout. "He and Stark were taken from a pub in Cairo an hour ago."

Will sits up straighter in the comfy seats of the private jet his cover allows him to have. "And you're just teling me this now?"

"I was a little busy trying to rescue them, William." Natasha's tone is cool. The use off his full name is both a warning and a comfort. Mostly a warning though. If Natsha's using his full name she's either pissed at him or pissed and directing her anger at him. He's not sure which would be worse right now.

Natasha's response is reassuring though and some of the tension bleeds out of Will's shoulders. If Natasha went after them they're sure to be fine. "And where is Clint now?" he asks.

"I don't know. We lost them somewhere over the Mediterranean."

"You what?" Will demands. And the tension is back. "How the fuck does SHIELD lose two of its biggest assets?"

"We were hoping you might be able to tell us."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." He imagines Natsha rolling her eyes. "That's why I'm calling you."

"Great. Fabulous. Good to know you're not just calling to tell me that you let my brother get kidnapped," Will snaps. It's been a long week and this is just the shitty icing on top of the crap cake life has baked him.

"Stop being such a dick, Brandt," Natasha snarls. "We didn't let Clint get kidnapped. In fact, we're pretty sure he let himself get kidnapped. Now I'm calling for your help to find the lost bird, so you can either shut up and help us, or you can continues whining and pray to God he doesn't die before we get there."

Will drags a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Nat."

Natasha sighs. "I know."

"Are you mad?"

"I don't know." Another sigh. "I'm worried."

Will waves away a stewardess who tries to offer him a drink. "What do you need me to do?"

"You and Clint have a special twin connection right?" Natasha is suddenly all business.

Will nods. "Yeah."

"Can you use it to find him?"

The legendary debacle of '87 comes to Will's mind. After he'd lost Clint and wandered into the middle of a drug deal during a carnival that had come to town while looking for him, their mother had firmly put her foot down on using their 'powers' to locate each other. His father had even threatened to inject them with trackers and monitor then at all times if they tried it again. Will has no doubt that legally being adults doesn't mean his father won't do it.

"I can try," he tells Natasha. Parental threats be damned. Clint's in trouble and Will's not going to sit on the sideline just because he might be sent to the naughty corner.

"I'll call back in an hour if I don't hear from you before that," Natasha says.

"Okay."

"And, Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." Natasha's voice is solemn.

Will chuckles. "I'm practising telepathy, Nat, not going to war."

"I know. But remember what happened last time someone got into Clint's mind."

How could he forget? Clint hadn't let Will near his mind for months after the whole mind-controlled-by-a-Norse-God thing. Will swallows. "I'll be careful," he agrees.

Natasha doesn't say anything else before Will hears the mechanical dial tone. He drops the mobile on the seat beside him and scrubs his face with a hand. When he lifts his head again the stewardess is making her way back towards him.

"Can I get you something to drink. Mr Brandt?" She offers with the same maybe-fake smile that all stewardesses are paid to wear.

Will glances at his watch, calculating the time and distance to Cairo. If the twin thing fails at least he can be on the ground searching. It's a twelve hour flight, and he'll probably have to spend most of that time trying to open his mind to his unfortunate older brother. He may as well have something to help...

"I'll take a scotch. Neat." The stewardess nods and starts to move away, but Will calls her back. "And tell the pilot we've got a route change. Something's come up. We're heading to Cairo."

The stewardess leaves and Will closes his eyes, focusing on the pull of his brother through their connection. He sinks further into a strange transe-like sleep. Pain lances through his head and if he'd been more awake he would have groaned. Worry gnaws at his insides. Wherever Clint is, he's hurt.

When the stewardess comes back with his drink five minutes later he's asleep.

* * *

Clint wakes with a pounding headache. Well, wakes probably isn't the right word. His eyelids are too heavy to lift and at some point his hearing aids had been removed so he can't see what's going on and he can't hear anything. He thinks he twitches his fingers and then he feels the warn flesh of a calloused hand on his arm. From the cold touch of a ring Clint guesses it's Tony.

He hopes it's Tony.

There's a strange feeling of movement. Almost like the vibration of a plane making his muscles tremble. He should probably open his eyes and find out what the fuck is going on, but he's so damn tired...

Clint lets himself be drawn back into the depths of unconsciousness. Someone will probably wake him if the world starts ending or something needs shooting.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I have no excuse for this chapter except that it was late at night and I wanted to torture Clint. Please read with a healthy dose of imagination. And please note that I am in no way a medical doctor or nurse or anything of the kind so anything injury or medical related is thanks to google and I do not claim that it is in anyway accurate.**

 **As with the last chapter, warnings for language but that's about it.**

 **Enjoy :) Next chapter up in a day or two.**

* * *

Will feels like he's only been asleep for a few short minutes when he wakes up again. He opens his eyes to the soft glow of sunlight through partially open curtains and sees that he's not on the plane anymore. He's lying on a bed and when he sits up and swings his legs over the side he sees the wooden dresser, desk and bedside table of his childhood bedroom.

"The fuck?" He mutters.

The bedroom door is open and Will only hesitates a moment before he leaves the room and wanders into the hallway. There are framed photos on the wall, of him and his brothers and their mother and father, but the hallway stretches farther than his eyes can see. Farther than possible on any physical plane.

 _I must be dreaming,_ Will thinks, reaching up to run his fingers across the very real glass of a photo of Clint and himself. They're only six or seven in the photo, wearing identical red beanies and long scarves wrapped three times around their skinny necks. There's a spot of snow on Will's red nose and his eyes are crossed comically trying to look at it, unbeknownst to Clint's cheeky face above his shoulder and the snowball in his older brother's gloved hand.

A smile graces Will's lips at the memory as he traces Clint's grin with the tips of his fingers. He turns left down the hallway, continuing to run his fingers across the faded wallpaper and photographs. The hallway is never ending.

A shadow moves up ahead and pain laces through Will's head like fire. "Clint?" He calls. "Is that you?"

Will breaks into a run, calling for his brother as he goes, but there is no more movement up ahead. He trips over something and goes crashing to the floor. The wooden floor is hard and cold and he bites back a groan when his hands and knees slam into it. The something that he tripped over is lying by his foot and he cranes his head back to see an old wooden horse toy.

Clint's wooden horse toy from when they were kids.

"Are you going to play with me, Willy?"

Will's head snaps back to front. He's staring at Clint, but it's not _his_ Clint. It's six year old Clint from the photo he'd been looking at. The now-dirty red scarf is dragging along the ground, the beanie is sitting at an angle and the cheeky grin has been replaced by wide brown eyes and a pout.

"Why won't you play with me, Willy?"

Will's heart almost breaks at the misery in his brother's childish voice. He doesn't know what to say, though. This isn't one of his memories and he has no idea what he's supposed to do.

"Don't you like me, Willy?" Six year old Clint persists. "Don't you want to be my friend?"

Will opens his mouth several times but no sound comes out. _The fuck is going on...?_

Six year old Clint comes closer. "You don't love me anymore, do you, Willy?"

"Of course I do." Will's voice is hoarse and the words shock him. He hadn't meant to speak.

Will blinks and suddenly six year old Clint is replaced by sixteen year old Clint. "Prove it," the teenager snaps.

Will pushes himself up off the wooden floor as teenage Clint turns and runs down the never ending hall. Except, it's not never ending anymore. Teenage Clint disappears through a doorway about twenty metres ahead, just before the hallway ends in a a wall decorated with the same fading wallpaper and a childish crayon drawing of a bow and arrows with the words 'to Clint, love Willy' in the corner.

Will comes to a stop in front of the drawing. He remembers giving it to Clint when his brother had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm when they were nine years old. The picture had never hung on the wall in their childhood home, though, and Will wonders what it's doing here now.

He pushes open the wooden door set in the wall on his left and finds himself in the living room of their childhood home. It's different, though. More cluttered. Will watches dust motes dance in the fading sunbeams that bathe the room in a soft, natural glow. The room is dim and dusty and he tries not to cough as he manoeuvres around several stacks of comic books piled in the middle of the room.

"Clint?" Will calls. The door slams shut and he whips around to stare at the wallpapered wall adorned with photos and drawings where the door had been not ten seconds ago.

"Will?"

Will turns at the sound of his brother's shaky voice. Clint - _his_ _Clint_ \- is standing in front of him. Another sharp pain lances through Will's head.

Will's lips turn upwards in a soft smile as he reaches forward and pulls his older brother into a crushing hug. Clint tries to pull back, though, and when Will's arms remain tight around him, he pushes Will away.

"Stop!" Clint whisper-yells. "You can't be here!"

Will stares. "What do mean 'I can't be here'? Where the hell even is 'here'?"

Clint's eyes dart from the windows to the wall that had replaced the doorway Will had come into the room through. "You have to go," he whispers. "They're going to come looking for you."

"No." Will grabs Clint's shoulders and shakes him gently. "Clint, _look at me."_ Clint meets his eyes. "You need to tell me where you are, okay? I'm going to help you, but I need to know where you are."

Clint eyes crinkle. "Will?"

Will forces the smile back onto his face. "Yeah, Clint, it's me."

"How are you here?"

Will drops his arms and shrugs. "I don't know. I just woke up here... Where exactly is 'here'?"

Clint mirrors his shrug. "It's..." He trails off and taps the side of his head with his knuckles.

"You're mind?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Huh." Will turns to look at the rest of the room. Torn couches with the stuffing spilling out of the seams; bookcases bent out of shape from the weight of the books piled onto them; a threadbare rug covering part of the scratch marred floor; framed photos and artworks hanging crooked on their hooks. All of it coated in a thick layer of dust. "It's... homey."

"It's stupid," Clint mutters. Will chooses to ignore him.

"So why am I here?" Will asks, trailing a fingers through the dust on one of the bookshelves. "Why aren't we in my mind?"

Clint gives him a look. _Dude. Seriously?_

Will jumps. Clint's voice - his thought - is omnipresent. It echoes in the small room, bouncing off the walls before it reaches Will's ears. "That doesn't usually happen like that," he says. Usually he hears Clint's thoughts like a voice in his ear, not an echoed yell.

"No shit," Clint deadpans. "We're _in my head_ , idiot. My thoughts are around you, not in your own mind."

Will stares in wonder at the walls around him. Now that he's looking closely, he can see the pictures on the walls moving and the titles on the spines off the many books changing rapidly. These are Clint's thoughts, he realises. He reaches out to pull one of the books off the shelf but it disappears before he can put his hands on it.

"You never answered my question," Will says, turning back to look at Clint. "Why are we here? Why not my mind?"

Clint laughs. "Have you seen your mind, Will? It's locked up tighter than Fort Knox. And trust me, I'd know, I broke in there once just to see what all the hype was about."

Will frowns. Part of him wants to chastise his brother for breaking into Fort Knox for shits and giggles, but the other part of him recognised that there are more important things he could have taken away from that comment, like... "You've tried to break into my mind?"

Clint gives him a _duh_ look. "Remember when mum and dad banned us from using our 'creepy twin/triplet powers'?"

"Yeah."

"Well I didn't." Clint grins unapologetically. "I got curious, so I started trying to get into your minds while you guys were sleeping."

Will blinks. "I'm not sure if that's creepy or ingenius. How did I not know you were messing around with my mind?"

Clint shrugs and flops down on one of the worn couches, completely ignoring the dust cloud that rises up around him. "Probably because I couldn't actually get in. And even if you did know you probably just passed it off as strange dreams and forgot about it."

Will sits gingerly on the arm of the couch. "So you never got into my mind?"

"Nope." Clint says, popping the 'p'. "Like I said; Fort Knox. How did you manage it anyway? It took me years to even get passed your outer walls. How'd you get in here on your first try?"

"I don't know. I was just reaching out for you and I think I fell asleep, next thing I know I'm waking up in my bedroom at home."

Clint's eyes light up, as though he's on the verge of some maniacal revelation, but before he can share his epiphany (or possible plans for world domination), Will is thrown forward from his seat. His head hits the corner of the glass top coffee table and, for a second, everything goes fuzzy. When he looks up, Clint is beside him, gripping his forearm and pulling him to his feet.

"Fuck," Will groans. "Can you tell your mind to be a little nicer to me? That hurt."

"I didn't do that."

The world is still tilting slightly and Will fights the urge to pass out. He must have hit his head harder than he thought... His fingers find the side of his head, expecting his hair to be sticky with blood, but there's nothing there. "What do you mean, you didn't do it?"

"It must be you," Clint explains. He grabs Will's shirt to stop him from falling when another unseeable force tries to knock him to the ground. "You said you were asleep right?"

"Yeah. What does that-" One of the windows shatters and a roaring wind rushes in, trying to sweep Will off his feet.

"Someone must be trying to wake you up!" Clint yells over the noise.

Will struggles against the wind that is trying to drag him towards the window.

"Don't fight it!" Clint's voice sounds like it's getting farther away.

"What?" Will shouts back. "What the fuck is happening, Clint!?"

Something grabs the back of Will's t-shirt and he spins around to see Clint. His brother is standing in front of the open window, seemingly completely unfazed by the vacuum of wind trying to suck them out of the room.

"Someone is trying to wake you up," Clint says, and his voice is once again loud and clear. "Your mind is trying to pull you back so that you can wake up, and you need to let it."

Will stares wide eyed and unblinking at his older brother. Tendrils of terror work there way down his spine and he can't stop a shiver from causing goosebumps to pop up on his arms. "And what happens if I don't?"

"I don't know."

Will swallows. "Okay."

Clint smiles. "I'll catch you on the flip side, Willy." He reaches out and ruffles Will's hair in the completely obnoxious way that only older siblings can manage. Then he steps aside and the wind swirls around Will at almost hurricane force.

"Wait!" Will calls as the wind propels him closer to the window. He tries to find Clint with his eyes but the wind is so strong he can barely move his head. "I need to know where you are!"

Clint's disembodied voice is distorted by distance. "Call Tony!" he yells.

Will gives up his battle with the wind and he's pulled through the window into the darkness that lurks on the brink of unconsciousness.

 _Call Tony_ , he repeats to himself. Then he slams into what feels like a hard and unyielding wall of pure energy.

Will jerks awake.

* * *

Clint opens his eyes. He's groggy and his head hurts like a bitch, but at least he's properly awake this time. Awake and pissed off. Specifically; pissed off at Tony. Tony who is standing on the other side of what he now realises is a private jet, talking with _Rhodey_ of all people. And Rhodey just so happens to be dressed in the black tactical gear of the 'kidnappers' from the pub.

"I'm going to murder you. Slowly and painfully, in ways Natasha couldn't even imagine."

Clint's calm threat interrupts the buzz of conversation. Well, what he assumes is the buzz of conversation since he _still can't hear a fucking thing._ The eyes of his would-be-kidnappers (and Tony) all turn to Clint as he struggles to sit up in the reclined seat he's been put in.

Tony grins brightly and opens his mouth to spit out a slew of words that could be "good to see you awake", but could also have been "Hitler's rising again". Clint scowls and him and tugs on his earlobe.

"I can't hear you," he growls. "Where the hell did you put my hearing aids?"

Tony blinks at him in open-mouthed shock and it occurs to Clint that he's never actually mentioned his less-than-perfect hearing to any of the Avengers before. _Oh well,_ he thinks, _better late than never, right?_

Tony taps his lips with his index finger then motions to Clint, mouthing (or saying) something. The movement of the billionaire's hands is oddly hyptnotic to his abnormally blurry vision but Clint is able to make out the words 'you' and 'read' and he guessss by Tony's charade-like actions that another is 'lips'.

"Can I read lips?"

Tony nods.

Clint tries not to groan as he rubs at the back of his pounding head. _Fuck that hurts._ "Usually," he says, the word slurring at the end.

Tony's brow creases. He moves closer to where the archer is slumping back in his seat, and normally Clint would be complaining about the invasion of personal space, but he's suddenly very busy fighting off a wave of dizziness and nausea. One of Tony's hands cups the side of his face and the other rests at the base of his skull, titling Clint's head so he can study the wound at the back of the archer's head.

Clint closes his eyes against the too bright light of the plane. The relief is short-lived, however, because Tony is suddenly shaking his shoulder and the jarring action drives rods of pain into his skull.

"Fuck," he groans, squinting at the two Tony's hovering in front of him. The Tony's are wearing identical concerned expressions and speaking too quickly for Clint's sluggish mind to follow. He closes his eyes again, mutters something along the lines of "I'm fine" and leans into Tony's supporting hands. Staying upright is suddenly too hard.

Clint is allowed minutes off blissful, painfilled peace before another set of hands begins to tug and pull on his left ear. His immediate reaction is panic, but then there's the cool touch of metal settling inside his ear and a moment later the low buzz of sound filters in. It's little more than a murmur at first, but then someone fiddles with the volume to turn it up.

"Barton? Clint?" That's Tony. "You've got a concussion, buddy."

"No shit," he says and the sudden loudness of his voice makes him wince.

Tony chuckles lowly. "Not a new experience then, that's good. Or bad, actually, but whatever."

Clint decides it's safe to open one eye and glare at the billionaire. "Where's Will?" he asks.

"Will?"

"Yeah." Clint forgoes nodding because previous experience has taught him that's not a good idea. "He was... he was here... He was s'posed to call you."

"Oh shit." Tony's eyes grow wide in sudden realisation. "I broke you. Your brother's gonna kill me."

Rhodey is standing beside Clint and his merry band of would-be-kidnappers are huddled down the other end of the plane, except for one who is hovering just behind Tony's right shoulder. Clint ignores the three (plus) watchful gazes as he fumbles with one of the many pockets in the khaki tactical pants he's wearing.

"He was s'posed to call," he mutters again. "Why didn't he call?" His fingers clumsily search his numerous pockets as he looks for his phone. "I gotta make sure he's okay."

"Easy, Clint," Tony murmurs, shooting Rhodey a look. "I'll call Will, alright? I'll make sure he's okay."

Clint's hands still their frantic movement and he blinks up at Tony. "You will?"

"Of course." Tony's grin looks just the slightest bit forced. "We're about an hour and a half out of Athens. We'll get you to a hospital and Natasha and Will can meet us there, okay?"

Clint hesitates. "No hospital."

Tony's eyes drift to Rhodey again and Clint resists the urge to turn around and look at the colonel because moving will probably just make him hurt more.

"Clint," Tony begins. "You've got a pretty bad head injury, and I really don't want Natasha to kill me because we let you talk us out of getting proper medical treatment."

Clint starts to shake his head but stops because _ow._ "There's a... guy I know who'll help. Just no hospitals."

"This guy got a name?"

"Yeah." Clint's hand reaches up to rub at his aching head but Rhodey gently pushes his wanderig fingers away from his wound, so he settles for rubbing his temple instead.

Tony huffs. "And it is?"

"Is what?"

"The name."

"Whose name?"

Tony narrows his eyes. "You had better be screwing with me Barton because if your concussion is this bad I don't care if your contact is your secret triplet, I'm taking you to the first hospital I see. Capiche?"

A tired grin stretches Clint's lips. "His name's Aaron."

The guy hovering behind Tony is suddenly very interested in the Starkpad in his hand, tapping and typing as his eyes flicker across the screen. "Aaron got a surname?" Rhodey asks.

"Not one you need to know."

The Starkpad guy huffs. "I can't get a file unless-" Tony's elbow in his ribs effectively shuts him up. Clint rolls his eyes. Do they think he's stupid or something?

"ETA seventy-five minutes," a voice calls from the front of the plane.

Tony gives Clint a searching look before sighing and running a hand through his dark hair. "We've got Tylenol," the billionaire says. "You can have that."

"About fucking time," Clint grumbles.

Tony turns on his heel and moves further back into plane, presumably to retrieve the promised painkillers. Over his shoulder he calls; "Shut your beak and get some rest, Barton!"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I am so so so sorry this chapter is late! I've been meaning to upload it for weeks but life has been so hectic I haven't had a chance until now. A massive thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments and waited patiently (or not so patiently) for the final chapters!**

 **I edited this in a rush so please point out any mistakes you find :)**

Will gets Natasha on the phone as soon as his feet hit the tarmac at Cairo International Airport.

"Athens," he says as soon as she answers.

"You found him?"

"You could say that." Will lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing Egyptian sunlight. "I got a call from Stark. He said they're fine and that they're meeting a contact of Clint's in Athens."

Natasha mutters a curse in Russian. "Stark said they're fine?"

"Yeah, it had me worried too."

"He give you a name for the contact they're meeting?" Natasha asks.

Will chuckles. "Aaron."

There's a beat of silence on the other end of the phone. " **Aaron** Aaron?"

Will rolls his eyes. "Is there another one?"

Natasha's soft huff of laughter comes clearly through the phone line. "I wish I could see Stark's face when he realises there's another one of you running around."

Will hums in agreement."Where are you?"

"We're coordinating the search from Cairo. I guess we can stop looking now, though." Natasha yells something at the people in the background and Will amuses himself by imagining the cowered expressions on the faces of the poor junior officers assigned to her task force. "Where are you?"

"Cairo. Just touched down. How soon do you think we can get a quinjet prepped and in the air?"

"Fifteen minutes. Western hanger."

Will grins. "It's a date."

"Don't get too eager, William. We still need to discuss why you thought it was okay to wait until you landed before calling me."

Will winces in the wake of the dial tone. Yeah, she's definitely mad at him this time.

Aaron had been having a great day. Then he'd received a phone call from his youngest brother and it had gotten so much better.

And, no, that's not sarcastic.

Well, maybe just a little bit sarcastic because, really, who wants their little brothers to crash their sort-of-holiday with their maybe-maybe-not girlfriend?

Will had called almost twelve hours ago and warned him that he'd be having company. Two hours later an exhausted Clint had almost fallen through his doorway, followed closely by an entourage of army/navy/airforce/something personel and Tony Stark. Aaron had taken one look at the ragtag group and slammed the door in their faces. (Minus Clint, of course. He'd made sure his troublesome little brother was safely ensconced against his side before refusing everyone else entry.)

Marta had hurried out of the bedroom at the noise and had whisked Clint away to lie down. A concussion, she diagnosed, serious, but not serious enough to need a hospital. Painkillers and taking it easy would do the trick.

Possible crisis averted, Aaron had returned his attention to the increasingly irritated men camped out in the hallway outside his door. Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes had been allowed in. The rest had been politely told to fuck off. Surprisingly, (or maybe not so surprisingly since they'd met Clint) they complied with little complaint.

After the initial awkward 'what the hell do we do now?', they had all showered and eaten and slept until late in the morning (except Aaron because someone had to keep vigil at Clint's side so the stupid little bird didn't try to test his wings by escaping out a window). So, now he's sitting at the kitchen bench of the hole-in-the-wall apartment having a staring contest with Tony freakin' Stark. Aaron is finding the whole situation rather amusing now that he's moved on from being worried about Clint and pissed off at the invasion of his apartment.

"There are three of you?"

They've been over this twice already.

"Yes," Aaron replies, ever the patient one. "I'm the oldest, Clint's the middle child, and Willy is the baby of the family."

"Willy?" Rhodes asks from his seat on Tony's other side.

Aaron shrugs. "It annoys him."

'No, if doesn't,' a voice whispers in the back of his head.

Aaron frowns. 'Get out of my head, William.'

He can practically feel his younger brother's eye roll, but the presence in his mind recedes. It doesn't completely disappear though, it sits down behind his left ear, always there in case he ever needs to call upon it. Clint is never so easy to get a hold of, but Aaron knows he can always count on Will to be one metaphorical step away from strolling the paths of his thoughts.

"-kind of family complex?"

"Huh?" Aaron blinks and realises Stark and Rhodes are both staring at him expectantly.

Tony rolls his eyes. "You know, we wouldn't have to go over this three times if you didn't keep zoning out. It's actually getting a little freaky."

Aaron arches an unimpressed eyebrow. He's been told it's mildly frightening. "I was talking to Will."

"Can someone please tell me who the hell Will is?" Rhodes demands.

"Twin two, aka Willy, apparently," Stark supplies. "And how were you talking to him? Can you read each other's minds or something?"

Aaron nods slowly. Stark and Rhodes gape at him as he reaches for the mug of coffee in front of him. Aaron crinkles his brow in their direction. "Clint and Will didn't tell you we could do that?"

"That's amazing," Stark mutters, reaching for his phone and tapping at the screen. "Can I experiment on you some time? Are you free next Thursday?"

Aaron shifts in his seat. He's already been experimented with enough as it is. He really doesn't want another mad scientist messing around with his genes.

"He asked that when I first met him, too." Will's voice invades Aaron's mind once more.

'Can't you leave me in peace for one second, William?' Aaron snaps, reaching into his mine to push Will back out. There's the sound of warm, familiar laughter behind him and Aaron spins around to stare at his youngest brother.

"Not in you head this time." Will shrugs, grinning cheekily in a way that just screams Clint. Aaron can't help but grin back.

"It's been a while, Willy." He stands and pulls Will into a tight hug. His younger brother stiffens in his arms before relaxing into the embrace.

"Not long enough," Will mutters into the collar of Aaron's shirt, but Aaron can hear the smile in his voice.

"Is this one twin two?" Rhodes whispers to Stark. Aaron hides his grin in Will's ruffled hair. The colonel clearly doesn't know about the amazing Barton hearing that Clint missed out on.

"Yep," Stark replies. "He's the sane one." A pause. "I think."

"Where'd he come from?"

Aaron pulls back to look over his shoulder at the pair still sitting at the counter, nursing half full mugs of strong black coffee. It's been a long day... night... whatever for all of them. Will takes the cue to step back and shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"The window," Will says. "Gave Marta a bit of a shock until she realised it was me."

Aaron rolls his eyes. "You get more and more like Clint every day."

"At least I haven't faked my own kidnapping yet."

"Yet."

Will shrugs. "Gotta keep your options open, bro."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Aaron and Will both whip around at the sound of Clint's voice from the doorway. Clint still looks a little pale and shaky, and Aaron can still feel the twinges of his brother's headache, but he's standing without looking like he's going to fall over which is definitely an improvement.

"You're supposed to be resting," Aaron feels obliged to point out anyway. What can he say? It's his job as older brother to coddle to the point of patronising.

"I've been resting for the last eight hours." Clint scowls at him. "I need coffee."

"You really shouldn't be drinking coffee with the pain meds I gave you," Marta chimes in as she appears behind Clint.

"Yeah, no, not a good idea." They all turn to look at Stark. The billionaire really can't keep the attention off himself for long, Aaron notes. "Telling Clint he can't do something is a sure fire way of ensuring that he'll do it."

Aaron, Will and Rhodes share nods of agreement. Marta purses her lips.

"Would you all stop bullying me?" Clint grumbles, letting Marta shoo him towards the lounge in the open living area. Will reaches out to tousle his twin's hair as he passes and Clint doesn't quite duck away in time.

Aaron and Will share identical grins as Clint mutters to himself about annoying brothers who don't have any respect for the hair on his head. Will rolls his eyes. Their middle brother has always been so dramatic.

"You boys really should behave yourselves when you're together," Marta says as she moves into the small kitchenette to make herself a cup of coffee. "You can be quite the handful."

"Yes, mum!" Will and Clint chorus with matching eye rolls.

Aaron snickers. "Now look what you've started, dear," he says to Marta.

Rhodes peers into the dregs of coffee at the bottom of his mug. "I think I'm gonna need something a little stronger than coffee." He sighs. "One Barton was fine, two is bearable, but three..." He shakes his head and resumes staring into the depths of murky brown.

Marta pats his shoulder as she passes by. "You'll get used to it."

Aaron opens his mouth to supply the witty remark that Clint would usually provide, but a sharp rap on the door halts the conversation before he has the chance. Everyone freezes. Will reaches down for the gun in his ankle holster; Aaron pulls opens a draw in the kitchen and withdraws his own weapon.

"Fuck," Clint curses. "She's going to kill us."

Will immediately relaxes. "Nah," he says lightly. "She'll kill him:" He waves a lazy hand in Stark's direction. The billionaire looks appropriately fearful for his life.

"I'll kill all of you if someone doesn't open this damn door!" Nataha's muffled voice calls through the door. "That means you, Aaron!"

Aaron swallows. "You didn't tell me she was feeling murderous."

Will raises an eyebrow. "What were you expecting?"

"Gratitude?"

Clint snorts. "From Nat?"

"Aaron!" The yell is followed by a slew of Russian threats that make each of the Barton triplets cringe.

Aaron hurries to open the door and admit the fiery Russian assassin.

Natasha stretches on her toes to kiss Aaron's cheek when he (finally!) opens the door. He's doing a pretty good job of appearing happy to see her, but she doesn't need to be an expert on all things Barton to see the glimmer of fear in his eyes and the way his hand still loosely holds his gun at his side. She lightly pats his chest as she moves further into the room. They really are adorable sometimes.

"I'm not going to kill anyone," Natasha says to the room at large. Tony sighs in relief and she immediately turns on him. "Except maybe you."

"Me? Why me?" It's a poor play at innocence but she gives him points for trying.

Natasha's lips curve up into the beginnings of a dangerous smile. "If Laura doesn't get to you first."

Will squeaks. Honest to god squeaks. "Laura's coming?"

"Don't be daft, William." Natasha hides her smile at his irritated twitch. It would seem he's been getting William a lot lately. "Of course she's not coming. She's pregnant, for god's sake."

"What? Really?" Three identical voices exclaim.

Natasha rolls her eyes at the head that pops up over the back of the lounge. "Don't play dumb, Clint. I can't believe you haven't told your brothers yet..."

"Yeah, Clint," Will adds. "I can't believe you haven't told your brothers yet."

"Don't mock me, William." Natasha remarks dryly.

Will throws his hands up in frustration. "Can everyone please just stop with the use of my full name?"

"Sure thing, Willy." Aaron pats his back consolingly. Will scowls.

"Uh, I hate to interrupt yet another touching family reunion," Tony cuts in. "But who the hell is Laura?"

"Nobody important," Clint says a little too quickly. Natasha frowns at him. He shakes his head slightly in return.

Tony opens his mouth to continue his interrogation, but Will beats him to it with an effective, though not entirely subtle, change of topic.

"Forget Laura - mum's never going to let us out of her sight again," he moans.

Natasha resists the urge to roll her eyes. Really, what is it with Barton's and melodrama?

"She's going to coddle us to death," Aaron laments.

As one, the two Barton's turn to their middle brother for his input in their tragic bemoaning. Clint shrugs as well as he can while propped up on one arm. "Speak for yourselves, mum wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the fate of her favourite son."

Muffled giggling draws Natasha's attention to the woman in the kitchen, half-hidden behind Rhodey and Tony. "Marta, right?" She asks. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet."

Marta offers a shy smile. "You must be the Natasha who Aaron pretends to be afraid of."

"Hey!" Aaron protests.

Will leans into his older brother's side. "Pretends?" he whispers.

Aaron mockingly shoves Will away before pulling him back under his arm and holding him tight against his side while he ruffles his younger brother's already spiky hair. Will struggles against the movement for a moment before settling, wisely accepting defeat at the hands of his oldest brother. He wraps an arm around Aaron's waist and burrows his head into the leather of his brother's jacket.

"Aww, they're adorable." All heads turn to Rhodey, who flushes under the mix of amused (Natasha, Marta and Tony), curious (Clint) and glowering (Will and Aaron) looks. "I just mean... Well, what I meant to say... Ah fuck." The colonel drags a hand down his face. "You know what I mean."

"We're highly trained assassins," Aaron points out, rather petulantly if Natasha may say so. "We can't be...adorable."

Will shrugs. "I don't know about that. I mean, have you seen Clint in the morning?"

All attention moves to the archer, who's watching them with wide, pitiful eyes. Clint snuggles further into the dark purple hoodie he's wearing and Natasha's sharp eyes catch the shiver that passes through both Aaron and Will as they move to plop down on either side of their triplet.

"How are you feeling, Clint?" Natasha asks.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"I was a little preoccupied handling these children."

"And don't you make a wonderful mother?" Clint gives her a dopey grin.

Natasha arches a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Not nearly as wonderful as you are at trying to change the subject," she retorts.

"I wasn't-"

"He's fine," Will says over Clint's whining protests that he would never think of trying to change the subject.

"Hmm." Natasha reaches out to lightly run her fingers through Clint's hair. His forehead is a little warm but not worryingly so. "I wouldn't be too eager to draw the attention back onto yourself, Will. We still need to have a talk, remember?"

Will pulls Clint back to lean against his chest. Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Using your injured brother as a shield won't prolong our talk."

Will's gaze purposefully drifts over her shoulder to land on Tony, Rhodey and Marta who are awkwardly loitering a few feet away. Natasha keeps her green eyes locked on his blue ones. They stare at each other for a long minute before Tony clears his throat and breaks the spell.

"Is it just me, or is there some serious unresolved sexual tension here?" Good ol' Tony, as subtle as ever.

Aaron snickers. "Trust me, it's not unresolved."

Natasha flickers her wrist out and slaps him on the back of the head. He looks decidedly less happy with himself as he rubs his injury.

"You two- you and- you're together?" Tony splutters.

Natasha smirks. "Yes."

Poor Rhodey looks unbearably confused. "Wait a second. I thought you and Clint were... you know... a thing?"

"So does everyone else," Will mutters. He's leaning back against the armrest now, playing with Clint's hair while his little brother tries not to fall asleep.

"Prestani," Clint mutters. Will stiffens, then forces himself to relax when Aaron shoots him a concerned look.

"Morate se odmoriti," Will responds quietly. Natasha isn't sure what language they're speaking; something European, definitely, but it's not a language she's familiar with. Her eyes dart to Aaron who's frowning but he doesn't look as puzzled as she feels. Of course they'd all learn an obscure language that nobody else would think to know so they could talk. Not that they need it, though, since they could just do their creepy triplet mind reading thing.

"What are they saying?" Marta asks and Natasha turns to see the doctor coming to stand by her side. Natasha shrugs. She doesn't know, but by Clint's tone she guesses he's complaining about something.

"Ne želim. Imao sam dovoljno spavate." Clint tries to swat his brother's hand away but Will catches the flailing limb and gently pushes it back down.

"Mi ćemo ostati s vama," Aaron adds to the conversation.

"'M not a baby." Clint's near whining tone would beg to differ.

Will chuckles. "Of course not, bro."

"You're a chick." Aaron finished the thought.

Natasha is once again amazed at how in tune the triplets are with each other. Yes, she knows they can read each other's minds, but the mind is a complex network of thoughts and feelings and memories, and she finds herself constantly surprised at how easily they navigate each other's.

"I hate you both," Clint says, but there's no real heat behind it.

Aaron flicks his ear. "Liar."

Clint moves his foot, which is now dangling off the edge of the lounge, to kick Aaron in the shin. Natasha takes that as her cue to intervene before Clint ends up with another injury to add to his collection.

"Alright boys, that's enough." She rests a hand on Will's shoulder. "Clint; a bed might be more comfortable. Aaron; you're on Clint duty-"

"What? Why me?"

"I don't need a babysitter!"

Natasha glares them both into submission until they move to do her bidding. Aaron pushes himself up from the lounge and grabs Clint's arm to haul him up as well. Clint continues to grumble about being old enough to take care of himself as his brother guides him out of the room.

"What about me?" Will asks, a wicked grin cutting into his cheeks. "Do I get a special job?"

"Oh yeah," Natasha murmurs, leaning down until their lips are hovering inches apart. "Your job is really special."

Will tilts his head up to close the distance between them but Natasha pulls back at the last second. She grins at his pout. "I need coffee," she declares, waving an arm in the direction of the kitchenette. "The coffee maker is that way, dear."

Will departs in much the same fashion as Clint; grumbling under his breath. Natasha smirks as she watches him. Being in a relationship with a Barton is worrying at times, and sometimes a bit confusing, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

Besides, she has yet to find anyone who makes coffee as well as Will does.

"Dammit, Clint!" Aaron's yell has them all standing, ready for action, when he comes storming through the doorway. "The little idiot jumped out the freakin' window!"

Natasha can't help it. She laughs. It would seem that Clint is well on his way to being back to his normal healthy, annoying self.

 **AN: The boys were speaking Croatian, if anyone's interested, and I'd like to thank google translate for helping me out there. Apologies if it's wrong, I have no knowledge of the language (though I would like to learn it some day).**

 **Their conversation is as follows**

 **Clint: Cut it out**  
 **Will: You need to rest**  
 **Clint: I don't want to. I've had enough sleep.**  
 **Aaron: We'll stay with you**

 **Thanks for reading and the final chapter will definitely be posted later today :)**


	5. Epilogue

**AN: Here it is - the final chapter!**

 **I struggled a bit writing this one so I hope it turned out okay. As always, I hope you enjoy and please point out any mistakes you find :)**

It's almost four o'clock in the morning when they pull up in the driveway. The house is dark and silent beneath the starlit sky. Aaron kills the engine - because he's an annoying older brother and had pulled rank so he could drive - and they sit there in silence for several long minutes.

 _'You think they're asleep?'_ Clint doesn't dare to speak aloud in the otherwise silent night.

Aaron snorts. ' _Is that a trick question?'_

 _'False hopes, bro,'_ Will chimes in from the backseat. He'd drawn the short straw (i.e. lost rock-paper-scissors) and spent most of the drive from the airport silently bitching about it, which didn't mean a lot since Aaron and Clint could read his thoughts anyway. As far as they're concerned, Will may as well have chattered incessantly the whole time.

 _'You think she'll be mad?'_

 _'That you didn't actually get kidnapped, or that you didn't call to tell her you didn't actually get kidnapped?'_ Will asks.

Clint shrugs.

Aaron gets fed up with the sitting still (and probably Clint's internal debate over whether he should go inside and face the music or force one of his brothers to take the rap for him) and gets out of the car. Will is quick to follow, pulling his bag out after him and hooking it over his shoulder. They both stare expectantly at Clint through the tinted windshield. Maybe he could just pretend he's not here...

A light clicks on in the kitchen.

Clint gives up on any chance of pretending he's not here (and let's be honest, it probably would have made it worse for him anyway), sighing in the over dramatic way that he's perfected over the years, and lets Aaron help him out of the car.

"'M not 'n invalid," Clint mutters, but Aaron ignores him in favour of slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him up the front steps. Will follows close behind.

Aaron knocks on the door because Clint's too lazy to dig in his bag for his keys and they don't have to wait more than a few seconds before the door is pulled open. Laura throws her arms around Clint, almost knocking Aaron over in her enthusiasm, and kisses him firmly on the lips.

"You're an idiot," she says with a tearful smile.

"I'm sorry?" Clint smiles sheepishly.

Laura rolls her eyes and reaches up on her toes to kiss him again before inviting them all inside. She lets them know that they'll have to face her wrath if they wake the kids, then disappears into the kitchen to get coffee. The coffee had already been brewing in the pot so it only takes a few minutes for her to add milk and sugar before she sets four mugs on a tray and ventures into the living room.

Only one of the Barton Bros is there. Now, if only they weren't all wearing identical jeans and henleys, she might be able to tell which one it is...

Barton #1 accepts the coffee with a smile. "Clint went to check on the kids," he offers after he's had a sip of the heavenly liquid energy.

"Ah," Laura articulates. Ten years married to Clint and you'd think she'd have learnt to tell the triplets apart, but nope... He's not Clint, obviously, but the jury's out on whether he's Will or Aaron and she'd prefer not to embarrass herself by getting the name wrong, thank you very much.

There's a brief awkward pause in which Laura wracks her brain for something intelligible to say while Barton #1 stares placidly out the window at the lightening sky. There's the soft tread of socked footsteps in the hallway and then Barton #2 enters the room.

"Thanks, Laura," he mutters as he swipes a mug of coffee and drops down onto the lounge beside his brother.

Laura stares at Barton #2 then Barton #1 then back to Barton #2. Back and forth. Repeat until thoroughly confused as to who's who.

"Will?" She guesses, gesturing to Barton #2.

He grins. Infuriatingly smug bastard that he apparently is. _(Maybe not Will then...?)_

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Laura sighs. "That would have been too easy wouldn't it?"

"Yep," they reply in unison.

Laura returns her attention to the steaming mug in her hands. "It's too early for your triplet mind games," she says to the aromatic liquid.

"Or late," Barton #1 muses. "Considering that we haven't actually been to bed yet."

"You did sleep on the plane, though," Barton #2 adds.

"Time differences," Barton #1 says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Barton #2 shrugs and, if his brother's snicker is any indication, the action communicates more than Laura understands. Thankfully, Clint enters the room before she begins to feel too awkward.

"Is Lucky in his kennel?"

Laura rolls her eyes. Of course Clint would come home after a two week mission (and being kidnapped, for gods' sake!) and the first thing he asks about is the dog. She's been married to an assassin-turned-spy-turned-Avenger long enough to recognise a stalling tactic when she sees one.

"Yes," she nevertheless replies. "He was chasing birds so I tied him up."

Barton #2 sets his mug down on the table with an audible _chink._ "Clint has something he'd like to tell you, Laura," he says with a meaningful look at his brother.

Clint shoots him a betrayed look. "Thanks, Will, your loyalty is overwhelming."

Will (ha! she'd been right!) shrugs. "If you'd prefer she found out from Nat..."

"Found out what?" Laura asks, making sure to use her 'mum voice' for added effect. The triplets may not be kids (even though they act like it sometimes) and she may be married to one of them, but the 'mum voice' has yet to fail.

Clint hesitates. "You remember how I got kidnapped?"

"Something about that does come to mind, yes."

"Well, uh, about that... See, the thing is... Ididn'tactuallygetkidnapped."

Laura blinks. Then blinks again. Clint holds his breath, visibly cringing in anticipation of her reaction. Aaron facepalms, muttering something about Clint needing to be more tactful. Will just looks highly amused.

"You didn't get kidnapped?" Laura asks slowly.

"Uh, no?"

"You don't sound so sure."

Clint gives her a poor imitation of their five year old daughter's puppy dog eyes. "'M sorry, Loz. It's all Tony's fault. Truly."

Laura must look disbelieving (it wouldn't be the first time he's used that excuse) because Aaron comes to his brother's defense.

"It really was Stark's fault, Lulu. For a genius, he really can be an idiot at times."

Laura hasn't met Tony Stark but she's heard enough about him from Clint that she doesn't have trouble believing that.

"And if I ask Nat, will she corroborate this story?" she asks.

Clint nods enthusiastically, obviously relieved to be out of the metaphorical dog house. "She'll probably throw in some Russian curses and a few Widow-style death threats. She even said you'd help her bury the body."

Laura grins sharply. "Of course I would. I wouldn't do any of the heavy lifting in my current state, of course, but I've already got somewhere picked out just in case we need to dispose of any idiots in a hurry."

Will and Aaron trade slightly worried looks. Clint just looks like he's falling even more in love with her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, resting a hand on her still flat stomach and grinning dopily.

"So you really are pregnant?" Aaron asks.

Laura nods, resting a hand over Clint's, and smiling softly. "Not quite two months along."

"Wow," Will mutters. "I thought Nat was just screwing with us."

"She usually is," Aaron agrees. "She once told me her favourite game is seeing which of us she can mess with the most." His expression turns thoughtful. "I think you're winning, Will..."

Laura hides a smile behind a yawn (she'll never tell them, but she and Nat have had one or two conversations about how to play the Barton Bros). "Where is Nat? She said she would be escorting you boys home so you didn't do anything stupid, like get kidnapped on the way."

(Cue meaningful look at her husband, who has the good decency to look shameful.)

"France," Will responds, at the same time Aaron says "Greece" and Clint says "Belgium."

The triplets stare at each other in silence for about ten seconds before turning to Laura as one and chiming, "Romania."

"How did-" Laura begins, then stops. "You know, I don't think I want to know."

"Fury called her away last minute," Will explains. "Something about a foreign ambassador who was kidnapped. Actually kidnapped, not fake kidnapped like Clint was."

Laura just rolls her eyes. "Well, now that we've settled that, I think I'll head back to bed." She stands and holds a hand out to Clint. "You coming, honey?"

Clint glances at his brothers. "Are you two-"

"We're good," Will assures him. "Go."

"And don't worry about the kids," Aaron adds. "We'll feed them and clothe them and do whatever it is you do with kids when they wake up."

Clint laughs. "Good to know they'll be in capable hands."

"Just go." Aaron shoos them out of the room.

When the coffee cups have been washed and places back in the cupboard, and their duffle bags have been brought in from the car and stashed in the guest room, Aaron and Will stand on the front deck, leaning against the rail and watching the sunrise paint colour across the sky. The stress of the last week, from missions to 'rescuing' Clint, melts away with the lightening sky, replaced by the content feeling of being near family that only comes when they're all together.

The peaceful moment is diminished somewhat when Aaron turns to his brother with a frown.

"What _do_ you do with kids when they wake up?"

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! I have plans to make this part of a series featuring the triplets and I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you'd like to read so feel free to leave a review with suggestions with future (or past) instalments in the lives of everyone's favourite Barton Bros :)**


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